Chapter 11: Cravat

I shut the door of my own room behind us and turned the key.

"Take off your cravat," I said.

Gervase stared at me.

"Mina."

"Take it off, and give it to me."

He undid the white linen with fingers that were not steady, and unwound it, and held it out.

I took it, and drew it through my hands, and looked at the four posts of the Duchess's bed.

"Sit down," I said. "On the end. Put your hands behind you."

He sat.

Then, very slowly, he put his wrists against the carved post at the foot and crossed them.

I wound the cravat twice around them and knotted it loose enough to slip, and he looked at the knot, and at me.

"You could get out of that by turning your wrist," I said.

"Yes."

"If you want to."

"I don't," said Gervase, hoarsely.

I stood back and looked at him.

The Duke of Tarrant sat on the foot of my bed in black and silver.

His shirt was open at the throat and his hands were behind him, and he was flushed to the hairline.

I had never seen anything so beautiful.

"I'm going to ask you questions," I said.

"Anything."

"One true thing for each one.

"And every time you tell me one, I'll give you something."

I unbuttoned his waistcoat and his shirt.

I laid my palms flat on his bare chest and felt his heart go like a hammer.

"What do you want?"

"You."

"That isn't a true thing.

"What do you want, tonight, exactly?"

His eyes closed.

"I want to be told what to do."

"Good," I said.

I kissed him once, on the mouth, slowly, as a reward.

His whole body strained toward me and the cravat creaked.

I opened his breeches and drew him out, hot and hard in my hand, and he shuddered.

"What are you afraid of?"

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